


//finish him! -- yukimura

by MostlyAMan



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Beheading, Guro, Other, Ryona, Verbal Humiliation, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyAMan/pseuds/MostlyAMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NSFW, EXPLICIT : GURO. [You]/Yukimura, M-Ryona, humiliation. FINISH HIM!</p>
            </blockquote>





	//finish him! -- yukimura

"What a pretty little bitch!"   
  
You're sure to tell Yukimura this as you grind your dick in his face- he can't help but try to look away, but you hold him firmly, smiling down at him. When he finally flicks his eyes up, he is rightfully scared, your knuckles red with his blood and smile unnerving. You tear his clothes open to see his hard figure and explain to him, deathly low and intimate, the name of the dominant muscles as you trace them, feeling him quiver.   
  
But... what's...   
  
Ah!   
  
Oh,  _gross_ , he wet himself!   
  
His finely-patterned trousers stick to his tight, muscular thighs and he groans, hanging his head, as his face reddens deeply and he tries to squirm out of your grip. But you hold him in place, grip on his chin forcing him to watch as the dark blue spreads out, making him listen to your laughter.   
  
Does he  _really_  call himself the pride of his army? You're sure his Lord would be embarrassed for him there and then, or would surely cut him loose after such a humiliating defeat. You tweak his nipple, emphasising your point, and he yelps, but you can see why he's shaking his head so much.   
  
"Huh? You're getting off on this?"   
  
You look down and sure enough, there's a bulge mounting under filthy, wet fabric and he cringes as you reach down. You force him hard, kneading his fundoshi-clad bulge with the ball of your hand- he can still feel the brass knuckles that tenderised his flesh and he tries to escape again, but when your nails dig into his sore side, he seems to understand. He's soaking wet, but you don't care- Yukimura, a duty-bound and strong man, has been reduced to a wet, sobbing bitch with a raging hard-on in his tight, damp underwear. You peel his trousers down to his knees, where they are tied off for his greaves and knee guards, making him see how shiny his damp thighs are.   
  
"Is that it? I knew Japanese men were small, but..."   
  
His cock is gorgeous, but you berate him, squeezing the head so hard that he wails until a sob breaks the pitiful sound. You tease him with your short nails, and run the textured knuckle over him, until-   
  
 _CRACK!_  
  
You lash out, slamming your fist into his balls with all the force you can muster so suddenly. Yukimura's warm, honest eyes bulge and he howls, body starting to curl in on itself like an insect until you smash my elbow back into his nose, with a barked command to stay upright. You batter his balls and his pretty dick until you get sick of his screaming- his fundoshi is torn with your brute strength until it gives and you bundle up the soiled fabric, tilt his head back by the nose, holding it shut so that he has no choice but to open his stubborn mouth and the cloth is crammed in to gag him, the foul taste of his own piss merely serving to disgust him further. His cries are more muffled now, and you shove him back prone, sit on his strong chest to keep him down and resume the assault until he comes hard enough to smatter on you, his thighs twitch and the white mixes with blood from broken skin.   
  
Only once your arms grow tired do you stop, and he is still sniffling, his cries a broken mewling. You squeeze his balls and...   
  
He broke really easily, didn't he?   
  
You turn around and smile down into his face- his bleeding nose has mingled with tears and he looks like a fucking wreck, the fundoshi in his mouth staining a saturated crimson. He's so pathetic that...   
  
One of your hands lock around his tense throat, and you squeeze as he starts to thrash. His Lord would never take him back, not after this, you tell him. You'd be ashamed to have such a weak soldier under your command, you lash him. His eyes are red and he's sweating hard, so you smash my fist into his face over and over and over to make him  _stop_ , and keep going, keep holding him down even as he stops moving. Your fist keeps flying, over and over and over again until he's unrecognisable, a bloody pulp of broken bone and meat- his skull has caved in, his mashed brain obscene on your fist.   
  
You stand, and pick up his spear.   
  
It rips up his head nicely, and you finally sever it from his pretty, pretty neck.   
  
He's finished.


End file.
